Never full at rest through the crashing waves and seemingly endless assault of uncertainty, Nails is immediately punishing with “Conform.” More walls of noise that constrict on the audience, “Conform” and the tracks to follow spend no time wasting for introductions or to build. Instead, the intensity rises and through the onslaught of continuous instrumentation pounding away like a hammer and anvil crunch, Unsilent Death is as deadly as it is striking.
Full of breakdowns like on “Scum Will Rise” or “Traitor,” the pits are at a frenzy like sharks in a pool of blood that through confusion and insolence bring more teeth to bite. Much of Unsilent Death is disguised as 10 tracks that through the average run time of under a minute, are crawls from the depths and mire. Even just listening feels to be a taxing activity since the percussion is a wild animal incapable of taming that headbutts face-first into the strings and vocals.
Todd Jones on screams and guitars works with John Gianelli on bass and Taylor Young as the overtly aggressive trio that brings on Kurt Ballou as an engineer and mixer for the project. Ballou who seems to touch almost every metal project that resonates on the golden shelf, Unsilent Death is a sonic firing squad that without hesitation cannot wait to pull the trigger and mow down the line.
The final track, “Depths” however is the longest, standing at three minutes and 48 seconds, and aids to bring a concise recapturing of everything that the audience witnessed on Unsilent Death. The fast breaks where necks snap, to the bone-shattering sluggish swings disguised as breakdowns.
“Depths” is going to be the best representation of Nails for their unrelenting spirit and fighting edge, Unsilent Death even 10 years after the initial release is still kerosene in a fireworks factory.
That goes for most of Nails‘ ability here though and in short doses like the 13 minute run time allows Nails to spread out enough and grab throats before vacating back to the nightmare from which it came. Dreams become cracked porcelain, hopes shattered, but the monument to hardcore rises like the rope that hangs a broken and bruised, nearly unrecognizable corpse.